


Door with Three Masks

by CosmeerSpots



Series: Wondrous Wanders [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gore, Near Death Experiences, Siblings, Wondrous Wanders AU, aka its me being stupid with ideas that i think are pretty cool, i have no clue how to tag if i miss smth shout at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmeerSpots/pseuds/CosmeerSpots
Summary: If there is something that Hornet hates a lot, it’s her Father, the whole infection deal and that one idiotic door.
Relationships: Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet & The Knight
Series: Wondrous Wanders [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681615
Comments: 56
Kudos: 214





	1. Past

Hornet pushes through the crowd of bugs. They murmur in mild anger and some even reach out to grab her to lecture her, for sure, before realizing who she is.

Everybody collected in the Forgotten Crossroads and she runs towards the front of the crowd waiting for the ceremony, then to the Temple where she knows her Father should be doing the final preparations before the Sealing.

Hornet doesn't know what will she do when she finally gets to Him. Gets to _them_ . Hollow will be there, too. She _just_ learned what the fate of Herrah, her mother, and her sibling will be. One to sleep and dream till the end of time, the other to be locked away from the world, to suffer alone in silence with godly rage locked inside their mind.

Good Gods above, the only rage that should matter to the Pale King should be hers. She might have just been living and breathing for only 8 years, but everybody knows to avoid and fear the anger of the Gendered Child, daughter of the Beast.

She bursts into the Temple, all ready to start a screaming fit, only to find that her Father is not present. It’s just Hollow. Staring at her. Most bugs would call it emotionless and cold, terrifying. But she can see the traces of confusion in their dark, swirling eyes. Her rage dies out immediately and she is filled with melancholy instead.

Wordlessly, she walks to them. They track her movement as they always do. Creeping out normal bugs, letting her know that she has all the attention in the world they can give her.

Slowly, Hornet comes to a stop a bit away from them. Should she come to them? They’re about to leave her. Forever, possibly. And they don't seem to regret it. Maybe they don't _really_ care about her and her feelings, about this at all. Maybe they are but just a living automaton without any feelings. Maybe every experience she had with them was, truly, a lie-

Hornet looks up as somebody nudges her cheek gently. Her eyes meet the nothingness of Hollow’s stare. They tilt their head and wipe away her tears with their thumb. She hasn't noticed she began crying. She hasn't noticed them kneeling down next to her.

“Please don't leave me…” she rasps out, her voice sore as the tears she doesn't want to spill go against her wishes. “ _Please_ don't go to sleep, too…” She throws her arms around their wrist and buries her face in their palm.

They freeze, their fingers twitch, they look around, scanning for any prying eyes. They find none. Hornet hears metal cling softly as they put their nail down on the floor. She feels their other arm snaking around her back before she’s being lifted up and then pressed against their chest. Everything goes dark as their cape falls over their shoulders, over her head. The familiar cold of their torso feels oh so welcoming, but it only makes her cry more.

They curl around her and hold her just a bit more tightly and she feels sorrow, reassurance and remorse press against her mind. Emotions that don't feel like hers.

They hold her for some time, till her tears calm down. Then she gathers all the power she still has after all the crying and climbs up to wrap her arms around their neck, pressing her mask against the cheek of theirs. Hollow just sighs silently and nuzzles closer.

Time seems to freeze for a bit, then. Permitting her to forget about the threats of lonely future. Letting her enjoy this little beautiful something, before it will be inevitably torn away from her. She doesn't want to let go. Doesn't want the time to carry on again. Hornet, the little demigod grub, just wants to stay in her sibling’s embrace forever. She wants her mama to join them in this blissful moment. It would be so perfect. Mama is already asleep, however. She won't come.

Everything nice seems to end too soon, though.

Both of them hear steps from outside. With final forehead bump, Hollow puts her down, picks up their nail and stands straight up, becoming a statue again, looking somewhere far and nowhere at all, feeling nothing once more.

She can only and just sigh and lean against their shin. That's ok. It’s ok. She can do that. They won't get into trouble now, if she had done it million times before already. It’s ok. One possibly final contact to soothe her one last time.

The Pale King enters the temple, few royal retainers in tow, and His eyes widen with surprise as He spots her. “Child, what are you doing here?” His concerned whisper chases away the strange comfort that lingered from her and Hollow’s hug. Another reason to hate Him, she thinks.

She wants to be angry. Hiss at Him and verbally harass Him a little. But she simply doesn't have the energy after that cry, so she just hides her face behind Hollow’s leg, crossing her arms to still communicate her displeasure.

The King’s expression turns pained. She would’ve missed it if all her attention wasn’t on him. His features turn cold and serious too fast for her to think anything of it, though. He steps closer and she can’t fathom why. Probably to tear her away from Hollow…?

Hornet clings to their leg as fast as she can, then. There’s no way she’s leaving them. “You’re _not_ going to steal them. Not mama, not Hollow.” she hisses out quietly, but she knows He can hear. “I won't let you.”

Hollow doesn't react. The Pale King freezes. The silence stretches for uncomfortably long, before He decides to break it. “You can stay at its side, child, but when the time will come for us to walk inside the Black Egg, you are not to follow. You will wait outside, till I come back.” He walks towards the raised ground at the Black Egg’s entrance and Hollow turns to follow. She moves with them.

She bristles. “They aren’t an _object_. They’re more of a person than you'll ever be!” The shout rings out in the empty temple, few of the retainers standing at the exit wince. The King’s head dips slightly down as He stops.

“We shan’t argue about this. There is no other way, there is no cost too great.” Is His only reply. It echoes in her head on a loop. The finality of the statement feels like it will drown her. It silences her. It makes her just follow Him, still next to Hollow, still mostly hidden by their cape.

They stand to His right, they drop their right arm, letting only their left to hold their nail and she’s hidden from everything once more. Hornet appreciates that a lot. Without anybody to see her, she just sits down and leans her head against them. She won't cry again, no, not in this very second at least. There’s just empty sadness sleeping in her heart, now.

The Pale King had to give His retainers a signal to let everyone enter the Temple, because she can hear pitter patter of many bug feet, buzzing wings and hushed whispers. Her Father starts to speak, but she can’t bring herself to try and listen to anything He says. She doesn't even wants to.

She had to enter a trance, of sorts, a world that consisted only of the solid ground, sibling’s cold, reassuring presence, darkness and muffled sounds of voices from what felt like different reality. Because it does not take that long, till Hollow lifts their cape again, shows her to their Father. She tries to resist, as He pulls her into His chest with one pair of arms. She squirms, she kicks at him. He turns around and walks away and she can only freeze over and stare over His shoulder at Hollow, who only stares back without any emotion showing. _This is the last time she will see them. They will be as good as dead in few minutes._

“Scholar? Quirrel. If you'd be so kind as to hold on to the Princess?”

“Yes, of course, your highness.” the bug’s voice is shaking with grief that could probably almost rival hers. Almost.

Hornet is switched between the two. The bug’s- Quirrel’s?- arms are much more welcoming. They feel warmer, more comforting, soothing and soft. All that her Father lacks. Quirrel hugs her close. The Pale King and the Hollow Knight leave, enter the Black Egg as the crowd cheers. She starts crying again. Quirrel weeps with her. She tries to escape and run after her family. Quirrel holds her tighter against himself.

The cheering stops. The eerie silence accompanied only with hers and Quirrel’s sobs stretches until it’s broken by a nail slashing. She can’t tell into what no matter how hard she tries to place the sound. Then a horrid scream howls and she’s sure that the whole kingdom- the whole _world_ \- can hear it. It makes her cling to Quirrel, Quirrel clings to her. Whole crowd shakes and holds on to the nearest person they know. The scream stops, but she’s sure that it will never leave her mind alone.

One, two, three and then four chains stab into the ground. A spell flares to life. The King walks out of the Temple a moment next. He turns around. Moves His hand and the door appears. Herrah’s and two more bugs’ masks appear, shine for a bit, signaling the fall of the Seal over the Black Egg.

Hornet screams. She’s sure that if Quirrel hadn't buried his face in her back at the same time, she would startle him badly. Maybe he even expected it.

It is done. It is final. She just lost two of the dearest, most loved bugs in her life. Just like that… They’re just gone and there’s nothing she or _anybody_ else can do. She is left with only her Father and she hates Him. She doesn't want to have anything to do with Him. Maybe the White Lady could offer her some comfort? She left for her Gardens, though, hasn't she? Maybe Hornet could just try her best to find the Queen. Anything is better than her Father.

The Father in question walks towards the crowd. Makes another speech she can’t listen to. Dismisses everyone, including the royal retainers and walks to them.

He nods, “Duty well done, Quirrel. You can put her down, now.” And he does, but first he squeezes her slightly one last time. Attempt at comfort, she guesses.

Just as her feet hit the ground, she runs to the door. Father stays behind, talks to Quirrel, before he leaves, too. Maybe she could try and find _him_ , if searching for the White Lady will turn out to be futile.

Her little fists meet the surface of the door, followed by her face. There’s no use trying to open them, she knows. Why does she have to be so helpless. She hates this. A lot. “What am I supposed to do now?” her voice is so weak. It shouldn’t be. Weakness is bad. “Mama's gone…”

“You will always be welcome in the White Palace, child.” Hornet jumps at His voice. She didn't expected anyone to answer her. One of His hands attempts to rest between her horns, but she slaps it away, so he hides it in his robe’s sleeves. “...I suppose you do not wish to depart yet.”

She’s pretty sure that the look she gives Him is enough to answer His pondering.

“Yes, I thought so.” He sighs, “Stay here as long as you need to, grieve, find peace with the decision that had to be made if you can. The White Palace’s gates will be open to you when you decide to come.”

She won't. She won't come to the White Palace. To Him. She didn't even tell Him her name. The only ones worthy of such knowledge were mama, Hollow, Midwife and Vespa with her knight. The Pale King does not deserve to know. Someone who hurt her this much doesn't deserve to know something so important. She thinks He knows very well she won't come back.

His eyes were usually empty or stern. Not in a way Hollow’s are- were? Were. Not in a way Hollow’s were. Hollow’s used to swirl with an element she couldn’t truly understand, their eyes held only few emotions. Mostly, it was love. Adoration, wonder, the need to protect and comfort. They were always buried so so deep, so hard to find. She had gotten better at finding them, though. The Pale King’s eyes held nothing, at least she couldn’t ever see anything.

This time, they held sadness. Regret. Hate. She was surprised to see them there. She expected the nothing, maybe happiness? Triumph, certainly. Wasn’t this what He was working towards so long? She won't falter with the plans already forming in her mind, just because He shows that He can feel something. She doesn't care.

He sighs again. Looks pointedly to the ground. Then to her. Hornet makes sure that there’s nothing in her eyes that would give Him anything to talk about. To prompt him to try comfort her. Reason with her. She wants Him gone.

He seems to get the message, thankfully. He leaves her side, walks to the exit and looks over His shoulder. And she knows He's saying goodbye to two of His children. Not to His knight and bargaining tool. Still, she chooses not to dwell on that. Nothing He can and might do in the future will shake her resolve.

He leaves and she’s truly alone, now.

The realisation sinks its ugly claws into her heart and makes her fall to her knees. The only one to make her company is the silence. The heavy presence of giant Egg made out of Void. Her soft sobs.

And the one stupid, damned door.


	2. Present

She’s back.

Once again, Hornet stands in front of that cursed wretched door, adorned with three masks, one of which belongs to her own mother. Door to her beloved sibling’s prison. Knowing them, they probably silently agreed to being locked away from the entire world for the rest of their life. Now she could tell, better than before.

They failed in the end, yes. The infection splattered on her needle is the proof. However, her childhood went without the tragedies spread by dreams. She was thankful for that. She was thankful for them.

It’s so unfair, though. This door stripped her of two bugs she loved the most. All because of her Father. All because of two Gods. All because of their anger, their unwillingness to reach an agreement of sorts, so no lives would be lost.

A sacrifice of four to keep a kingdom of millions safe and eternal, forever.

A dry chuckle leaves her throat. Heh. Look where that got them all.

The kingdom became a tomb, in which even time didn’t want to stick around. Full of angry corpses with bright orange eyes, which haunted her dreams before she became apathetic and indifferent. She hadn't even noticed, until one day it caught up to her. She didn't cry, she just felt emptiness. And hatred for her Father spread further.

Deep below her feet resides a city of the dead. Once full of life, culture, songs and beauty. It’s just horrors residing there, now. Bodies littered across the halls of impossibly tall buildings. Bodies missing heads, limbs. Guts splattered across expensive carpets. There’s no one to clean up and bury them. Hornet’s own regrets are there, too. And memories of better times.

Oh, those memories that resurface every so often. When they do, in her dreams especially, she fights to wake up again. She can’t forget nor ignore who she is now, who she became, what became of the once charming, flourishing world full of laughter and games. If she loses herself in the past, she won’t see tomorrow.

As a protector, as a sentinel of this dead kingdom, Hornet can't allow that to happen.

Looking up to stare at the depiction of her mother’s mask, she wants to be angry. She wants to be mad at the One who caused this suffering. She wants to curse the air out, pretend He stands next to her, so He could witness her despair that He caused. Show Him that the costs _were_ too great. That they would be completely useless. She wants to scream out the pent up rage that piled up over what could be years, decades even.

She wouldn't know, what with the absence of time, with the stasis cursed existence that she knows as her own and only.

She’s too tired for all that, though. It’s been so long. She is strong, physically at least, she grew, she learned how to survive in a cruel, deadly world. But this loneliness, this pain… Her heart aches. It is no cold stone, after all.

So, she leans her back against the hated, disgusting and terrible door and slides down to the ground.

Weak sigh leaves her. Her hands shake and her eyes sting with tears she keeps promising to herself to never spill. Someone like her can't do that. Someone with such important position just _can’t_.

She’s so tired… But there is no stopping. No break to anything, really. If she stopped flying around through the kingdom, she could miss something. One mistake could mean stupidly a lot.

Hornet unsheathes her needle and lays it in her lap gently. With a cloth made of silk, she gets to tending to its blade. The motion automatic, leaving her to converse with the nothing of the Temple once again.

“The silence that plagues this kingdom is much different than yours used to be. I suppose, I shouldn’t be so surprised. The silence of the living and the dead is never the same, is it?”

No response, no surprise. It’s unlikely they hear her at all. She knows of the impossibly long hallway, leading from the entrance to the chains coated in seals of binding. She was there, when they were locked away. Hornet remembers being held against a thorax of a pillbug, shaking, grieving just like her. For whom, she couldn't recall. Couldn’t even tell if the named of the lost one was even uttered.

...For all she knows, the room might not even hold anything more than a broken mask, anymore. A dead face of her sibling. Maybe a husk as any other she met, waiting for second death, final and complete release from anguish and torment. Maybe a shade. So impossibly big, next to the other, smaller vessels she saw in Hallownest, wandering around without any real purpose. Dying. All alone. Or with her delivering the final blow.

“It has gone quiet more so than before. Little wars for food in the City of Tears ceased. Perhaps the stronger ones won, beat the weak to their death. Starved the weak. Perhaps, the last citizen drew their last breath.”

Yes, the capital grew still, just like the rest of Hallownest. She doesn't know how to feel about it, honestly. She fought in some of the wars. She found… not friends, friends are… something else. But Hornet found allies. People she fought side by side and she would be lying if she didn't admit that it was a nice change of pace.

If the Vessel on the other side of the door is alive and listening, they know. She made it a point to visit the Temple of the Black Egg from time to time. Ever since she figured out how to travel fast, she kept coming back. To tell them how the world is faring. Maybe even vent a little bit, how this whole thing is so impossible to deal with alone and yet she is pulling through the endless days.

Her visits came to an abrupt stop back then. Battles with allies at her sides were new, she had to learn quickly. New type of fighting had to be taught. She had to learn how to care for an injured companion once again. She couldn't afford to leave the battlefield. So Hornet didn't.

After weeks, she came flying back, though. Maybe it was childish and silly of her, but she apologized for her absence. A lot. To repay for the silence, she told her tales from the times she was not present.

Hornet didn't know why or how, but it felt as if the one she keeps speaking to wasn't mad at her, didn't require any apology. That they understood, were proud of her. She just brushed it off, she must be going crazy now.

She stopped staying in the city so often and long after that. Either because everything significantly calmed or because she felt like she was needed somewhere else in the kingdom. Or maybe she just didn't want to stick in a place full of fresh death anymore. Hornet didn’t know which one was it, but told herself it was the first one.

“The Greenpath is flourishing as ever. It’s overgrowing, actually. Unn sleeps, still. The Mosskin have not returned to her dreams, yet. I don't know if they’re able to, what with the infection controlling them in their dreams.”

“Deepnest is… It’s…. I have no idea. I don't know.” Hornet stammers, stops her care for her needle.

She hasn’t come to Deepnest since her mother began to Dream. Why, she wants to ask herself. That's her home. Her true responsibility, her domain, her kingdom. Her people are there. ...Probably. Most of them most likely fell to the infection. No matter how strong willed beasts and spiders were, God’s power is limitless. She just hopes, that maybe most of them escaped.

She wants to kick herself for being weak, scared to come and face the reality in shape of her mother lying on the stone altar, covered by webs. Hornet had enough time to accept this, why hasn't she accepted it, yet? Maybe it was the fact that Herrah still breathed. She was here, but also not. There was no closure in a situation like this.

Weight settles in her mind. Not burning, worrying one, but cold. Reassuring, comforting. Safe…

She inhales and exhales, steeling herself. Vulnerability is dangerous to show. She should stop. She’ll stop. She resumes the cleaning of her needle.

What else is there to talk about? The Crystal Peak is same as ever. Beautiful and sinister. The crystals sing melodies clear as Blue Lake’s water. Luring bugs into a daze. She doubts her sibling would like to hear about Queen’s gardens. Or the Kingdom’s Edge. _Or_ the Ancient Basin.

The White Palace is gone. With the Pale King, too. Hornet is pretty sure that they do not know about this. And she's sure that telling them about it wouldn't be the most… nicest thing ever. They already have a lot of troubles, she is certain.

And she knows better than to think of them as truly hollow. Truly ’’pure’’. She knows they deeply cared about the King, despite what all He did to them. It's one of the things she made sure to put on her list of ’Why hate the Pale King’. It’s pretty high on it. Making them love Him and then He forsook them. Unforgivable.

If they were empty, they wouldn’t teach her their tricks. How to block an incoming attack, shielding her head. How to strike back, nail swinging in a wide arc. How to never be afraid with a point of a nail pointed at her neck.

They wouldn't let her hide under their long cloak when Father was seeking her. Wouldn't let her hitch a ride on their wide shoulders, her head resting between their horns as she wrapped her arms as best as she could around their face. Nuzzling close to them. Wouldn't gently toss her into the air, on her request, making her giggle and screech with joy, feeling the air swish around her. Then they would catch her again, she’d be laughing and begging them to do it again. Hornet could swear she saw them smile. 

They wouldn't nudge their cheek against hers in middle of the night after she came running to them, awoken by a nightmare, when everyone slept and nobody watched. They wouldn't sit, wouldn’t hug, wouldn't do their best to safely hide her against their cold, comforting thorax.

They wouldn't be able to do anything that wasn't a direct _order_. Her pleadings and her emotional well being would be lost on them.

They were not hollow, empty of emotions. She wouldn't hurt them like that. They do deserve to know the truth, but right now, more suffering is something she does not wish to bestow upon them.

She glances down on her now polished needle, her reflection staring right back at her. Her eyes are wet with the unshed tears. She looks sad. So alone. The expression has to go, so she frowns. Fakes anger and pulls out determination that have kept her going for so long.

Her head leans on the stupid door and Hornet looks up into the dusty ceiling. Why nothing ever can be simple, she just won’t ever know.

She stays there for a bit. Mulling over actions she took and will have to take. What she will need to do next. Where to go. She has no idea. Maybe hunt in Greenpath?

Slowly, she stands up. Her needle finds its way to her back again, resting there, until it will be needed again.

Hornet walks to the exit of the Temple and stops.

She looks back.

She bows as a goodbye to the emptiness. Silent promise in the action, that she will be back.

There’s no response or reaction as Hornet leaves. Unsurprising. Expected. The door keeps heartlessly looming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This one was actually written before any of the other chapters, so I had to fix it up a bit, but tbh I’m happier with the fixed version than the og. I dunno when the last one will be finished, bc its gon be much longer. Ideally it should be done and posted on Sunday. Realistically? I have no clue
> 
> This chapter (and basically the whole fic) is inspired by this:  
> https://twitter.com/m061____/status/1225116350906912769?s=20


	3. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some chapter specific warnings: near death experience(s), at least one breakdown, some suicidal thoughts, the gore warning was put into the fic tags specifically bc of this chapter
> 
> Yeehaw hope yall will enjoy, heed the warnings and sorry for the longer wait

The door is finally, _finally_ gone.

Hornet stares inside the egg made out of black black void. So dark, so cold, just like all of her siblings. At the end of the hallway, she can see faint, orange, sickening light. The core of the infection resides there. Inside of her older, bigger sibling, hanging limp from chains.

She waits and waits, she thinks and thinks. Looks over to the place where mark of Herrah’s mask was, shakes her head and looks away, old sadness littered with specks of determination to stay alive for her mother sparking in her heart. She looks to the right and left, glaring at the infection pulsating with the heartbeat of a god. She looks into herself, peers deep inside her Soul, sorting through emotions that shouldn’t be there, that would hold her back at anything she might have to do.

Then she turns to the exit as she hears a faint ’nyaah!’ and skittering of small weaver feet. The feet stop and the nyahs grow sad and desperate before fading away. The creatures now familiar to her leaving her small sibling, their caretaker, probably running to find a place to hide until everything will be over and, hopefully, okay.

Then, Little Ghost walks through the door. Shoulders and head slumped, right hand caressing the left arm in attempt to comfort themselves alone. She sighs. Hornet isn't surprised by the obvious display of emotion. She probably would’ve been, if Ghost didn't comfort her after Herrah passed away.

It was surprising, but it also wasn’t. She was sitting with the altar behind her back and Ghost’s sleeping form to her right. Then, her mother’s body dissolved into Essence. She didn't look back, only hung her head in painful acceptance. It was needed. There was no other way. And the infection had to be stopped. She just hoped her mother knew Hornet loved her still just as strongly as she did when the Queen was still awake.

Ghost woke up few seconds later. They shook their head and pawed at their eyes tiredly. They looked up and froze when they saw her. They stared at each other, before Hornet spoke up. Asking them to leave. Begging them to let her grieve her mother she didn't get to spend quite enough time with.

They stared at her and then shook their head. She repeated herself, with more venom in her voice. They shook their head again. She started screaming and they came closer, standing their ground. Then she broke down crying, feeling oh so helpless. Everything came crashing down. The world she carried on her shoulders decided it was the correct time to break her and crumble at the same time. And when they pulled her into their little cold chest, she clung to their blue cloak like to a lifeline and wept and wept and wept with no sign of stopping near. She just couldn’t hold it anymore, no matter how hard she tried.

They let her, held her closer and tighter when she took first shuddering breaths. They hugged her and sunk down to the ground with her when Hornet fell asleep, too drained by the tears.

Hornet remembers, as she watches Ghost come closer to her to listen to anything she has to say, how she awoke with her head in their lap, with tiny claws stroking her horns. They talked- well, she talked to them and they nodded or shook their head, pantomimed if the motions weren’t enough- and when it caught up to her, that they weren’t empty at all, just like Hollow used to be, she trapped them in another embrace. They hugged for a long time and she heard faint whispers in her mind, promising her the sweetest of things. Company of a family member till the end of time… They wouldn't leave her, they swore, and for that little moment she let herself bask in it.

Now, they tilt their head up, looking at her expectantly. “The path is opened. One way or another, an end awaits inside.” she tells them. “I won't be joining you in this. That space is built to sustain your likes. Its bindings would drain me were I to join.” She holds her needle just a little bit tighter at that.

They tilt their head to a side, “Don't be surprised. I'll not risk my own life in your attempt, though if the moment presents I'll aid as I'm able.” She scolds her little sibling. Oh, but if an opening will appear, she’ll come. She will. Even if it kills her, she _will_ ensure the safety of this kingdom. It’s Hornet’s duty and she will never abandon it.

Something changes in Ghost’s eyes, they probably realize she’s willing to _die_ , and their shoulders shake with small tremors. They come ever closer to her and bury their face in her belly. At first, Hornet is surprised, still so very unused to physical contact that does not result in pain. However, as she recovers, her second pair of arms emerge to hug Ghost close. With a sigh, her right hand, the one not holding her needle, settles between their horns, petting gently.

“Ghost of Hallownest, you possess the strength to enact an end of your choosing,” she tells them and they nuzzle into her abdomen, bringing their arms around her to lightly squeeze. “Would you supplant our birth-cursed sibling, or would you transcend it?“

Ghost looks up into Hornet’s eyes, her hand slides down to rest against their cheek. There’s determination flickering in the nothingness of their stare and both of them agree, in that moment, that the latter choice will be made if possible. If they find a way, Hornet can tell, Ghost will do their best to make things right. For good, this time.

She gives them a nod, they give her a last squeeze before letting go and turning to enter the Black Egg. It’s time.

Hornet watches them walk, white sigils made out of Soul illuminating their way, until she can’t see them anymore. She looks down to the ground, opting to listen closely instead and try to calm her nerves. Her grip on the needle became iron strong and she didn't even realize it.

Silence. Then the sound of first strike of pure nail against chains echos down the hallway. The heartbeat of the infection stutters, she can see. The chain breaks and she hears a spell of binding burning away. The nail meets a second chain. Then third. The spells fall.

Pause. Long one. Hornet can _imagine_ it as if she stood right there. Ghost, so small, so strong, standing in front of their damned, _giant_ sibling, which has to be torn at least by time, if not by the Goddess trapped in their mind. She doesn't blame them for the pause. For the prolonging of the inevitable for just a little bit more.

Then the last chain breaks, the last spell fades.

There’s a heavy thud as, probably, the Hollow Knight falls from where they've been suspended for all those decades and Hornet does her best to ignore the sickening wet _squelch_.

Then the terrifying roar of an angry god howls out to the whole world and she has to suppress the instinctive urge to run to safety. First time she heard it, she couldn’t even keep herself from covering her ears and hiding her face.

The fight begins. She hears Ghost firing off their offensive spells, swinging and clashing of two nails and shadows. One dashing, the other teleporting, sending shivers down her spine.

First roar rings out and the already quivering Lumaflies in their little lamps hung from the ceiling huddle close to each other, terrified of the sudden, loud, predatory screams.

Second roar tears through the air just a little bit later. Someone repeatedly stabs into flesh. Loudly enough for her to hear it even from such a distance, even though the sounds should be muffled by the Black Egg’s Void walls.

Third roar and Hornet can’t take it anymore. She spins around, her beautifully red cloak flutters around her, and then runs. She runs as fast as she can, even as the Void slowly starts draining any and all energy she has in her body. The stupidly strong, sweet smell of the Infection threatens to choke her. She feels cold and hot at the same time, but there’s no stopping. She’s not stopping. She will power through this, just as she does with everything.

She runs by a small resting point, a tablet from her Father. She doesn't pay it any mind even as His whispers fill her mind for a split second. The only things her eyes see are her siblings. Ghost is turned to her with their back, shaking, losing Void and yet still clutching their nail. Not just ready to give up. And the Hollow Knight is… _Hollow_ is…..

There’s so many things just _wrong_ . So many feelings pass through her heart, not merciful enough to leave her be or at least stay on single one for more than a split of a second. Their arm is missing, their abdomen is littered with holes the size of their nail and biggest Infection cysts she’s ever seen on a bug hang from their chest. Their legs shake. Their nail is raised high above their head, ready to strike. She’s not sure who. And there’s a crack in their mask. _A weak point_. One big enough to make such difference.

Hornet thinks she’s shaking all over, but her hands are steady still as they throw the needle. It swishes in the air and finds itself in middle of the Hollow Knight’s mask. They jerk back in shock and the power of the stab, Ghost perks up with recognition and looks behind themselves, watching as Hornet flies to the battleground, right behind the weapon she threw, connected to it with silk.

The Hollow Knight manages to recover quickly enough to turn their massive head towards her. Two angry, mad suns stare at her instead of the empty darkness she searched so often when she was small, looking for the smallest hints of emotion, the most prized treasures ever.

She lands on their face, still small enough to fit between their horns, making them stumble backwards. Their shell is so so _scorching_. It makes her sick. It makes her want to cry. Instead, she drives her needle deeper into their head. She can feel them dip down the smallest bit at the pressure, she can feel them shiver from the pain. Hornet wants to hate herself for it.

She calls upon her silk, binding them and forcing them on one knee. Not that they really resisted- it’s so _easy_ . They lower their head to the ground by themselves, the point of their mask touches the ground. That's when she realizes that they are still here. This is not merely a crazed husk of her sibling, a puppet, driven by enraged higher being and the promise of final death. _They are still alive_.

“HURRY!”, she shouts at Ghost, who’s already drawing their Dream Nail. Her voice is strong and laced with fear and desperation, the only sound in the egg, besides the impossibly loud heartbeat. Her breaths are starting to come short. She feels Hollow shaking from the wounds and the effort to keep their body still for their sibling, under her feet.

Ethereal holy blade meets dusty cursed shell as Ghost slices through the fabric of dimensions to enter their sibling’s so long lasting dream.

Hollow goes down, then. They unceremoniously fall head first, lying down on their stomach. It sends Hornet flying forwards and then get yanked back towards them. Her needle is still stuck in their head and she is stuck to the needle by the thread.

Hornet’s shaking with the strain of yanking her needle out. Her energy is almost all gone. She’s so tired, even sitting hurts. She should move at least a little bit away. Hollow is still clutching their nail and no matter how weak, how close to death they are, the weapon is powerful and dangerous still. She can’t, though. She can’t stand, her muscles won't let her. So she weakly drags herself a tiniest bit away before collapsing on the ground. The distance she put between herself and her infected sibling would, in the end, mean nothing. They are giant, they wouldn't even need to take one simple step to get to her.

She stares at them, watches their chest rise and fall, their breaths wheezing and wet. Then, suddenly, they move their head and stare back at her. Hemolymph freezes in her veins and she holds her breath. Hollow doesn't do anything for a good while. Just shuddering and occasionally twitching. Hornet’s heart hurts, seeing them like this. Once upon time, they were as bright as Void can get. Brilliant, clothed in white shining armor and cape. They used to look like the definition of a hero.

Something metallic clinks against the ground and her gaze reluctantly shifts, just so her expression can change into the one of pure unfiltered terror. Hollow’s left hand- _their only hand_ \- is closing in to her head. They can crush her skull if they'd want to. She knows that, she saw them crush their enemies, back in the White Palace when they trained. That or, they sliced them in two. She’s sure, so sure that this is it. She won't die because of the Void draining her warmth, she will die at the hands of her own dearest sibling.

She wants to put up a fight, but her arms won't move in a way that could do a difference. She’s helpless. Completely so. All she can do is close her eyes and hope the end will be swift. The only thing she ends up feeling, however, is just and only the softest touch she experienced ever since the Infection truly, seriously, broke out and she became lone hunter.

Hornet quickly peeks from under her eyelids, confused. Hollow’s hand is... They caress her so gently, as if they didn't have godly rage caged inside them. Thumb moves up and down her horn, just like it used to when she was still just a grub and would cry over the smallest of injuries. The hand shakes, but seems determined to _not_ stop. No matter what. The fingertip is too hot to be as comforting as the cold one from long lost past. It makes her want to curl up to them close, anyway.

One of her hands moves up to clutch at one of their fingers. “Hollow?” She croaks out.

Their head jerks towards her, they angle it weird and she realizes they are blind in their right eye. She’s not surprised, what with the ugly crack traveling from the top of their head, through the eye and down to their chin.

Another pang of sadness and pain strikes through her heart. Their fist closes around her hand and clutch it as if she would disappear if they'd let go. It doesn't hurt and with all the power the Void hasn't stolen from her yet, her other hand lays itself on theirs.

Hornet’s vision is going fuzzy. She can’t feel her legs nor her torso anymore. She can’t breath right and the only air that fills her lungs is tainted with Infection and Void. Hollow is bleeding, that has to be why there’s so much physical Void so close to her, right..?

She lays her head down on the floor more comfortably and watches. She’s not sure what, but she watches. It’s probably time to let go, she thinks.

The Void making up the floor suddenly becomes liquid and starts to rise, engulfing her and the broken knight. A cold, dark embrace that suffocates her even more than the air did.

And then, suddenly, she can see it. _Every single thing_.

Brilliant sun shines above her. The light is so great and so blinding that it hurts to gaze upon it. Yet, she can’t look away. She sees Ghost, climbing up and up towards it, away from her, nail held tightly in their hand. All around her, following after them, is Void. Darkness and black, but with specks of white light. Soul. Always in pairs.

Those are her other siblings, she realizes. Some of them she even recognizes. Hornet remembers little corpses hung from the ceiling in Deepnest. Lured into a layer by a nosk, promising them someone loved or desired. She remembers the shapes of horns that crowned the heads of the Vessels she killed. The feeling and the sound of her needle piercing voided chests is something she’ll never be able to forget, she’s sure. Sometimes, she even had to fight their shades. Some more angry than the others, which just sunk to the ground before they could've even formed into the likeness of their physical body. Shades’ hits felt so bitterly cold that they burned through her carapace and dug into her soul. Hornet made sure after the first experience to dispatch them as fast as possible without letting them touch her once.

One of them stands out more than the others to her, though.

Not only bigger than any other of their tiny siblings, but the horns… She would recognize them anywhere. Three of them, one so stupidly giant on the left side- she remembers how, sometimes, they struggled with walking right because of it. Mostly when they were still dazed from night’s sleep, when she abruptly woke them up. Either because danger was close, or just to spook them a bit. Though their face was expressionless, their body language was anything but that. They always made her laugh. If not by their flailing limbs, the pattern of swear words they signed, hands pushed right into her face, for sure did.

The smallest glints of muted ethereal wings on their back, too. Hornet and them used to run around together, learn how to fly in their own respective ways, grow and fight side by side. Back in time and the living world, they used to be friends, real and true siblings. Before tragedy took them away, too, like everybody else she ever cared about.

Them and her actually made eye contact. The way they stopped rushing upwards to the endless sun with the rest of the countless siblings, the way they levitated frozen for few seconds, unsure what to do, and then tilting their head in clear confusion before coming just a bit closer, told her that they remembered too.

Slowly, hesitantly, they started floating upwards again, never stopping staring. As if they waited for her to join them. Hornet would not. _Could not_. She was chained to the ground in this dream by being of mere spider and a pale god, and none of Void. She has no clue if she, somehow without even meaning to, nodded or they sensed her inability. With one last parting look, they resumed their ascend.

They and her eyes flew up to the sun. There, Ghost finally stands, on top of the skies, just one jump away from the Old Light. They leap and slash at the God. Something next to her stirs and as she looks, she sees two wide white eyes staring back, glowing scars decorating their face. ...So here's Hollow.

Their head jerks back in surprise and they do a double take, not believing their eyes that she’s here too, before rushing up to join every other shade. Obvious urgency visible in the way they shot themselves upwards.

She watches as Hollow’s shade digs their claws into the face of the enraged God and _pulls_. The face of the core of dreams coming apart. Ghost’s shell breaks apart and their shade reveals themselves. Thrashing void tendrils from their side lash out at the light repeatedly, until it goes out.

Everything is dark. Hornet can’t move a single muscle, can’t draw any air into her lungs.

For agonizingly long moment, she thinks that this is death.

Then the pressure lifts and Hornet lives again.

The Void falls away and her whole body shudders before she jerks, once, regaining consciousness slowly. She takes a moment to taste the now clean air. How much of a blessing it is to feel it flow into her once more. She flexes her claws, tests the amount of control she has over them. Satisfied, she rises to sit. She looks around, confirming that yes, the whole temple is gone. Then confirming that she isn't alone.

Hornet stares for a bit. There’s Ghost. Curled up, shaking, clutching at their head as if it would fall apart if they'd let go.

She rushes over, stumbling as she goes. “Ghost? Ghost!” she drops down to her knees, next to their side. Her hand reaches out and places itself on their shoulder. They start to shudder even more. “Ghost, listen to me! You need to show me what’s wrong, _else I cannot help you_.” There’s urgency to her voice that comes along with caring for someone. She ignores it. Ghost reacts to it.

They slowly uncurl and Hornet gasps lightly as she is presented with a crack running between their eyes, from the front to the back. If they'd let go, it would probably, _actually_ split apart. They must be low on Soul, if they aren’t attempting to heal by themselves.

Her voice has a small shake in it. “Hold still, I will do my best to bind your mask. You may not be able to see, afterwards, though.” She helps them sit up steadily and gets to work. Weaving her silk into strong bandages before securing their mask. Yes, they did end up covering both of their eyes. “Don't worry about your momentary inability to see. I’ll lead you safely to the nearest springs, I promise.”

Their hands are in fists, shaking from the power of their clenching. They’re so afraid, she can feel it, taste it in the air, even. They are in pain, too, obviously. And not only physical, she guesses. Hornet herself feels quite jaded from the whole experience that just transpired as well and she wasn’t even in the epicentre.

She shuffles closer and pulls them, ever so carefully, into her chest. Their claws find her cloak and they _hold on_ , so strongly she’s afraid they’re going to tear the fabric. “It’s okay, Ghost. It’s going to be alright, now. You freed us all from the ancient rage. You did well. Very well.”

She feels the tremors rocking their body as they silently cry. Do they weep of relief, sadness or perhaps overwhelming pain? She does not know. Void tears smear and soak into their bandages and the red cloth. Normally, she’d grow furious, shout at them and maybe, _maybe_ , tear them away. Normally, she wouldn't let anybody touch her. All she does now, though, is pull them closer and caress their back gently as they let it all out. It’s the least she can do for the savior of Hallownest. She feels like crying too. She has to stay strong for them right now, however.

Then something shifts ways away. Something jerks, making small stones fall. It wheezes and makes her tense up. Her head shoots up to search the surroundings and catches the movement.

“Stay here.” She whispers to them as she carefully pries their tiny claws free of her cloak and stands. Picking the needle from where it rests, she starts moving towards the new, possible danger. Ghost reaches after her, but she ignores the motion, too deeply consumed by the instinct shared by hunters to pay it any mind.

Her shoulders drop and eyes widen, though, when she comes close enough to see.

She rushes over despite the aches in her body begging her not to, slinging her needle over her back. For a bit, she stands over Hollow’s broken body, her hands held up, unsure what to do to help, then she kneels down next to their head.

“Hollow?” They tilt their head the tiniest bit at her. “You- you are _dying_ -,” she sounds like she’s at the brink of tears. It’s _too much_ , she hates this-

She looks over them. Assessing the situation, hoping to find a starting point. Their chitin is a mess of scars. Their stomach is pierced through and through by their own nail, burst cysts leaking Infection and their void guts all over the floor. The socket of their right shoulder is terrifying to look at and the crack in their face worsened by her needle’s intervention during the fight. _How is Hornet supposed to fix this???_

Their claws scrape against the ground as they suddenly lurch forwards and start coughing anything foreign to their body uncontrollably and she grabs one of their horns, guiding them against her to hold them still. They press against her chest, themselves, too, and she watches as first blobs of Infection flies out of their mouth. She’s shaking as she watches.

Even more sweet sickness leaves them and, with final shudder, they lay their head down into her lap. Hornet looks down at their chest, quite frankly, horrified. Or rather, steals a glance at the giant puddle of liquefied void forming underneath them. There’s shuffling behind her and she knows right away that Ghost is trying to find her safe presence and warmth.

“We can’t stay here.” She announces, her voice betraying the fear blooming in her heart only slightly, just as Ghost lies against her back, clinging to her cloak. “I will… I will do my best to bandage you,” slowly she caresses Hollow’s head, mindful of the crack, from the brow of their left eye socket to the crown of their mask, trying to calm both them and herself. “I'm afraid I don't have enough Soul to bind every injury satisfactorily. I hope you'll forgive me.” They press against her some more.

With one small dip of her head, tiny apologizing bow, she calls upon her silk one last time. The bandaging isn't as neat as she'd like it to be. It’s too loose or a bit too tight and too thinly spread. But it has to do, at least until they reach the hot springs.

Hornet examines her work, shakily nods, and nudges Hollow’s horn gently, making them lift it up. It takes them longer than any of them would like. “Let’s go.” She says as she stands up. Ghost slides off her back and sits on their knees, head hanging low, looking lost.

She pats the top of their horn gently. “I have to help our sibling, they’re too wounded to take the path on their own. You can hold on to my shawl, though.” Their head perks up and they look her way. “Yes, it's alright. Now stand up. The journey we have to take isn't long, but won't be easy. The sooner we depart, the sooner we will be able to heal and recover.”

That was a nice thought. To get from a point A to point B. Too bad that everything about the little journey will be pure pain.

Hornet ends up under Hollow’s chest, lifting them up to her best ability. They are injured there, yes, but she doubts there’s any other effective way. Most certainly, she refuses to drag their broken body around. They are much lighter than they should be, too. They might not be empty of emotions, but they sure are empty of _basically everything else_. She can’t even believe they’re still alive. Lightweight they may be, but they’re still so big. So lanky. Just their head is at least thrice heavier than hers. And she is far from her peak health. The Black Egg’s draining effect on her still hasn't worn off. She doubts it will without her doing something about it.

At first they try to protest. They attempt to rise above her when she tries to make first steps with them on her back. Using their remaining arm, they manage it. But going further, trying to get their sliced ankles and bleeding knees to work, turns out to be absolutely futile and they come crashing down back on her back making her almost fall. She holds herself from snapping at them. They just tried to help. This is, overall, totally terrible situation that doesn't happen every second day. Besides, the way their arm finds its way around her, the way they squeeze her shoulder… It reminds her too much of before. Of past. When everything was alright. She just can’t get mad at them.

“I can handle this, Hollow. Don't worry.” The amount of self-control she has to use to not let any strain leak into her voice is ridiculous. “Come, Ghost, we’re going.” They answer her call right away. They rise to their legs on wobbly knees and come to her, slowly. Following the memory of her voice to find her. They shuffle closer, arms outstretched and yet they gently bonk into her side. “It’s okay.” She reassures them before they can even express their regret. Gently, they nod, before taking a hold of her cloak’s hem. 

Just getting out of the Temple proves to be a feat. The Black Egg left behind itself a crater which Hornet didn't really notice before actually having to scale the walls of it. Thankfully, it isn't steep. Hollow’s chest pressing between her shoulders with each rattling, wet breath keeps reminding her that even the slightest misstep could lead to a catastrophe. Ghost keeps tripping and catching themselves on almost every bigger stone. They’re alright, though. And she’s too determined and stubborn for something bad to happen right now.

When they finally, _finally_ , get outside of the temple, she chooses to go right. It should be faster and she’s pretty sure relatively safer too. Most of the Infected have to be dead by now, yes, but she’d rather not risk meeting any stray crazed husks in this state. The ways are littered with drying pus and sweet smell of the infection. Corpses are lying here and there, already starting to smell of rot. Hornet just hopes that Hollow won't pay the bodies any mind.

They stop underneath the well leading to Dirtmouth. Hollow doesn't seem to mind the little break at all, telling from how they gladly sunk on their knees, trying to lift most of their weight off her. She’s thankful for that, her back is already going to kill her, any rest is a blessed little thing.

Just as she’s about to finally catch her breath, a little frightened ’nyah’ echos from above them in the well. Her and Ghost’s heads snap up towards the sound while Hollow ignores it completely. Ghost seems to perk up and unsheathes their nail, before nudging the chain leading into the halfway dead town. She looks at them, a little bit confused, before looking up and spotting two scarlet eyes warily staring at them, before the small rascal who they belong to pokes their entire head out of their hideout and nyahs at them happily. And loudly. She winces at the echo making their little yell even louder.

They dart inside the little crevice in the well’s wall and fly right back out a second later, carrying two weaverlings on their back, the third one making a beeline after them. The little black and red child almost crashes into Ghost, caught up in their glee as they are, but, thankfully, Hornet manages to put a hand in front of them, stopping them in their tracks just in time.

“Calm. They’re severely injured. You have to be gentle.” She reprimands them. They mewl at her worriedly. “They’re going to be alright, but we have to get to the hot springs. Ghost and our now freed sibling,”, she gestures to Hollow, who just seems to accept things as they come, too tired to really be surprised, shaking all over from the strain of holding themselves up, “need Soul to heal their wounds.” She fails to mention that she, herself, needs a moment of respite to gather all the lost energy again. But no matter, that isn't as important as her siblings. The flying child and the weaverlings nod, understanding the severity of the situation.

She looks from them to the road ahead and glares at a random Tiktik crawling around the floor. A plan forms in her mind. “Child, the flying one?” They turn away from inspecting Ghost’s bandaged mask to look at her with little chirr escaping their chest. “Are you able to protect us from any enemies waiting on our way? Wandering husks are dead, anything infected _should_ be gone already. But such annoyances as Tiktiks and Crawlids seem to be still well.”

The child does a spin in the air and, to her dismay, screeches with joy of being bestowed such important task. Then they fly off, spitting scarlet fireballs at anything that even dares to move a millimeter. Plants included. Hornet doesn't have the power to call out after them and inform them that the vegetation will hardly pose any threat.

Instead she turns to the three small weaverlings. Always, when she sees them, something pulls on her heart. Maybe duty to protect the possibly last living creatures of the Distant Village? Maybe. Probably. “Tell me, little ones, can you spin silk?” They look to each other and reluctantly nod. Well, anything is better than nothing, isn't it. She looks up, staring at the bottom part of her big sibling’s head, looming over her. The spiders seem to understand what she’s getting at.

Carefully, they come closer to Hollow, who flinches the slightest as first thin spider limb touches them. Hornet acts quickly, pulling their head to rest against her shoulder so she can caress between their horns and reassure them. “They’re going to bandage you better than I could. You need it. There’s nothing to be afraid of, promise.” She murmurs to them and they untense significantly almost right away. That's good, because the weaverlings are already crawling over them, under their cloak, fixing the mess of her panicked bandage work and adding more layers. Binding them stronger or easing the press of some.

Soon enough, one of the weaverlings falls to the floor, landing softly on their legs. The second one follows soon after, less gracefully than their sibling. The third one climbs and settles next to Hornet’s hand, nuzzling the bone of Hollow’s mask, who, thankfully, doesn't seem to mind.

Upon lifting Hollow’s cloak just a bit, she’s reassured that the kids did really good job. She can’t help but wonder if they had time to practice, before all of this. She shoots a look towards Ghost, who’s standing next to her. Yeah, they probably had to help her sibling out at least few times with tending to injuries when low on Soul, not just smack things with their tiny little claws.

“Okay, you did great, children of silk. We can keep going, now.” Ghost squeezes into her side as fast as a magnet to its opposite, taking hold of her shawl again. Hollow deliberately lowers themselves on her back, just as she signals them to, the third weaverling keeping firm hold to not fall down from their perch.

They start moving again. Forwards, forwards to the hot springs that keep sounding better and better with every passing second. Scorched little bodies of Tiktiks and Crawlids lie on their path, joined by older, bigger ones of long dead sentient bugs. She thinks for a bit, before turning her head towards Ghost.

“Could you carry some of the fallen prey the flame child slayed? I'm sure that all of us will need nourishment after we patch up and take care of our wounds.” At Ghost’s nod, she heaves a relieved sigh. Good, good. She has no idea if any of them could carry something right now if not Ghost in the one arm they have not busied with clinging to her clothes.

She watches as the two weaverlings help Ghost collect the food, while still walking slowly. It’s much faster that way and she’s endlessly thankful for the children’s presence. Both of spider and the Grimm Troupe.

They finish quickly enough. Ghost manages to somewhat hold two Tiktiks at once, but she could swear she saw them hiding at least another five under their cloak. One of the weaverlings decided to carry a dead Crawlid, too. She can’t help the little chuckle as she watches them balance it on their front legs and then proudly march forwards, swaying slightly under its weight.

They finally enter the next room. The Lifts stretch from the depths up to them and Hornet realizes how _hard_ will it be to get both of her injured siblings to the bottom. She supposes that Hollow is big enough to not have to jump from platform to the next, but still, they'd need her at their side. And she cannot pay all her attention to them with Ghost tugging at her shawl, completely blind.

The flying one shoots up from below, between the lifts and she’s sure that if she wasn’t carrying one whole close-to-fainting huge sibling on her back, she’d jump quite the ways back. They even have the nerve to grin at her and make cute innocent sounds. How terrible. How dare they.

No time to linger on that, though. Her knees are starting to buckle under Hollow’s increasing weight, they almost can’t support even a bit of themselves anymore. They need to hurry. But also they have to stay careful. She’s so afraid of what one misstep could cause. So she beckons to the little red terror to come closer, which they do.

“I will tie silk around Ghost’s torso and let them down. Since they cannot see, I need you to keep an eye on them for me. I have to help Hollow with their descend.” The child nods and flies to their caretaker’s side, chirping and trying to prompt them to catch their tail. Oh, Hornet didn't even think of that. Their wings seem to be quite strong, maybe they could manage getting Ghost to the ground in one go without her having to position herself on different platform and leave Hollow’s side. Leaving them alone for even a second feels so incredibly wrong and risky right now.

Hollow heaves themselves to sit against a wagon behind her, supporting a lot of their weight with their last remaining arm. She looks towards Ghost, expecting them to be already holding onto the child’s tail. Instead, they’re still clutching her shawl like it was their only anchor to the world itself, shaking more than before. They hold the dead little bodies of Tiktiks closer to their chest. Making them a sort of wicked comfort item ...They are afraid.

Hornet can’t really blame them, though. Walking blind is one thing, descending on thin thread, unable to see, is another. Their softer chitin also means that any creature, including Gruzzers, could injure them further and she doesn't want to think about how it’d feel, to suddenly have the silk weight nothing as they'd fall or their body would disintegrate into bubbles of Void, leaving only two pieces of their split mask.

The wet wheeze of Hollow’s breath stresses her out and she wants to snap at Ghost to stop being so selfish, being scared in a situation like this. _Just get through it_. Leathery wings of the child beat slowly enough to be more calming than anything, but that gets eliminated by the membranes of Gruzzer wings underneath them, bumping into walls. The lifts creak as things touches them. The tiny sounds of the third weaverling’s careful fuzzing over the crack in Hollow’s mask seem louder than it should be.

Everything seems so overwhelming, the world feels like it’s literally begging her to break down right there in that exact moment. She, of course, won't. As always, she pushes everything away. Now is not the time.

She kneels down in front of Ghost and puts her hands on their shoulders. “Ghost.” No, no. That's too cold of a tone. Too sharp. That won't do. “Little Ghost…” That's better. Somewhat. There’s still an edge to her voice that betrays her impatience and desperation to have this over with. To be finally safe. “Please, listen.” Their cold hands move and hold her wrists. Their claws sink into her chitin, but not deep enough to hurt. They are just trying to ground themselves. “It’s alright. Spider’s silk is strong, you won't fall. I’ll make sure to tie you well.” Maybe it’s not her silk they distrust, but the child? “Are you afraid that your little flying companion will fail?”

The child nyahs accusingly at her, before apparently remembering something that makes them look away in embarrassment, before landing next to Ghost and apalogically, softly nuzzling to their acid singed legs. Were they the reason Ghost’s legs would be scarred in such a way, possibly forever? Surely, it was an accident that never repeated. The child doesn't seem malicious. At least towards Ghost.

They shake their head. No, they believe that the child will do well in protecting them during the descend. It’s gonna be fine, they know, they just need a moment to steel themselves.

It takes a bit longer than Hornet would like, but she’s not the one in their position. She wouldn't be comfortable with such thing, either, honestly. They lift their cloak to let her tie her silk around their chest, but it makes her pause. Their chitin is burnt. She hadn't check them over, back in the temple. It’s nothing near the severity of even Hollow’s least concerning injuries, but that doesn't stop her from mentally beating herself up over her carelessness.

She inhales deeply, starts spinning what’s left of her silk and ties it tightly around them. “Be safe. And you.” She looks to the child that already shot up into the air again. “Take care of them and wait at us right at the bottom. Do not venture further. Pull on the thread three times when you reach the ground.”

The child chirps, very much ready. They nudge their head under Ghost’s hand, letting it slide down their back, petting them, before Ghost clutches their tail. They don't seem bothered, even if the grip seems too strong. Carefully, they guide their caretaker to the edge. They look back at Hornet, wait for her to give them the sign to go. Firstly, she makes sure the silk is tied around her arm securely. She needs to control their descend, to let it be slow. She nods to them and the child wiggles with excitement before shooting downwards, prompting Ghost to jump after them, one of the weaverlings that carry the Tiktik to follow and startle her a little. She expected them to go slow!

Still, it all went smoothly from there. Ghost was not heavy at all, it was no big strain, thank the Gods. There were no jerks, sudden lightness of the silk, while on their way. She could hear sizzling of flesh of small bugs that must have gotten too close for the child’s comfort. Good, good, they’re safe. And soon enough, the silk was pulled three times. They were on the ground, waiting for her and Hollow.

Speaking of Hollow, they almost give her a heart attack when she looks at them again.

The way they lean against the wagon, their head hanging low… Their horns make it too heavy for them. Even the one weaverling left their perch, recognizing their weariness. The shudder of their breaths probably got worse while she was taking care of Ghost. The bandages covering their hole littered abdomen start to stain with their darkness and she can’t believe they haven't even passed out yet. She can’t imagine how much pain they have to be in.

She lets go of the thread connecting her with her smaller sibling. Slowly, she sits down at their left side, the one that's most intact and lays her hand on top of theirs. “Hollow?” she whispers to them and they turn their head the slightest bit, just enough to get to see her. Shaking, their hand turns, so hers would fall in their palm and so their claws can weakly close around hers.

Cold presses into her mind as she stares into their eye. The tiredness she feels, the want- the _need_ \- to let go. Just how fed up they are of this pain, this world that hurt them. Everything hurts so much, they want to go to sleep. _Please, Hornet, sister, little sister, let me lie and rest_ -

Her shoulders hunch and her head ducks down at the onslaught of projected pain. Not that she feels it as her own, but just _knowing_ hurts her so much. “N-no, Hollow, please- just hold on a little bit longer, we are almost there-” ah, her voice is shaking again. She feels tears pressing against her will. Gods, how she just wants everything to be okay. How she wants to hide under her big sibling’s cape. To feel that safety again.

She looks up and even though her sight is blurred, she knows what their eyes try to tell her. They wear the same look she does. Coated in fear, the desire to escape every single sharp thing life mercilessly holds over every living being. Maybe, they could hide each other. Her cloak will always be spread open for them, to offer them the safety of darkness and stability of her chest, certain lullaby of breaths. Just like they've done for her.

First they have to get to the springs, though. “Please, I can’t lose you again. Please…” Maybe it’s the moment of her weakness that makes their hand squeeze hers tighter before letting go, that makes their legs shake with effort as they right themselves to a somewhat mobile position. They were always so driven to protect others. Even more when it came to her. Any family member, really.

She looks up at them for a moment. So much emotions swimming through her head and heart. Happiness that they’ve risen again. Worry over what is to come. Self-doubt, if she’s not being cruel, urging them to keep living despite all they have gone through. Awe and admiration of their strength, even pierced through, with mind ravaged by a god, they still keep going. Love. Because how could she not love them.

She stands up next to them and they gently tap a side of their horn against hers, before offering their shaking hand. She thanks them, over and over.

The descent was slow, but she hadn't expected anything else. Hollow managed to slip few times, thankfully, even through her loss of energy, she was always fast enough to catch them and pull or push them towards stability. The other two weaverlings that stuck with them did great job protecting them from any Tiktiks or Gruzzers that escaped the flying child’s flames.

When they finally reach the ground, Hornet can’t help but sigh in pure relief. There should be only one last drop and one last climb before they reach their goal. She is aware of one Aspid Hunter lurking in front of the hot springs’ entrance, but with the weaverlings and the child on their side, she’s certain she needn’t to worry. The flying child comes to her, pulling Ghost, who’s still clutching their tail, along.

“Wonderful work, little ones.” she praises them both and pats the child’s head which in turn squeaks in delight. “We are truly close now. Just two rooms more.” Hollow’s shaking got worse by the exertion, though. And all of her four arms ache so much, she’s still trying to catch her own breath. She should be able to hold on longer, why can’t she. Why. Maybe a little break would be…. okay……

The child frowns. It’s so weird to see them frown, Hornet thinks. Especially in such concerned way. A grub like them shouldn’t have to frown like that, why are they- They fly closer to her and shake off Ghost’s grip, just so they can nuzzle into her cheek and nip at her horns. Ghost, somehow, seems to know what’s happening and they take to lightly pulling on her cloak. We have to go, she hears in her mind. She knows they are right. _She’s so tired…_

Come, come, let us go, we’ll heal, we will be whole and strong again. Just two rooms away waits salvation. End of suffering, moment of respite. To bind, to focus and to collect pains to banish them with clean water of soft Soul. _Come_ , the whispers beg her while the child lightly pushes her back with their head, forwards, urging her to pick up her unbreakable will again and move.

She takes a deep breath and it feels like she resurfaced from the waters of Blue Lake. Air feels pleasantly sweet, not like the Infection stained one. It doesn't feel oppressive like the one full of Void. She waves the small ones off, takes deep breaths, focuses on her pains and exhaustion so she can ignore them. Alright. Alright. They can do this. If they won't, she might as well turn around and break Hollow’s shade free with her needle to make their suffering shorter. And she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't let death claim them today.

She looks to the weaverlings and the child. “Are you able to deliver Ghost to the springs without me?” She will have to direct every sliver of her attention and power to carry Hollow, again. They are shaking so badly, she’s sure they are close to fainting. The only strong movements are the involuntary twitches of their muscles.

The younglings nod, all four of them and crowd around the small Vessel, the flying child offering their tail once again. Ghost before all else pats around her cloak until they find her arm. They give it a comforting squeeze before waving their hand around in search of the child. They, to make it easier for her sibling, slip close enough for Ghost to find them quicker. The five of them leave her and Hollow. She trusts the children to keep a keen eye on them. It’s ok, they've already proven themselves to her.

She turns around to face Hollow, their broken body resting against a wall. She doesn't even attempt to speak, this time. There’s nothing to be said, she thinks and feels like. She just puts her hands on their one and only lightly tugs. She helps them get on their knees before they almost collapse on her back, almost making her slam into the ground. They will have to put some more effort into movement, still, but she will try her best to carry their weight as much as she can.

The last descent goes smoothly enough, though she still hatefully glares at the threatening spikes at the bottom of a pit behind them. One last room. One more- it should be calm- and they are safe. They can tend to each others aches. As they enter, she’s so glad when she spots the little scorched corpse of an Aspid Hunter with its sack full of acid torn open. She was kinda worried it wouldn't come out when Ghost and the children would be passing through and she’d be left to deal with it.

She climbs to the ledge just before the hot springs’ entrance. And oh, does she just want to run in, barrel into the healing waters and sleep for a week. She keeps herself rooted though, waiting for Hollow to claw up to join her. She’s not sure how to help them, so she has to wait.

They heave themselves up with great effort. For a bit they tower over her, even though they can hard stand on their knees. They come crashing down and she races to catch them before they can hit the ground and make their wounds worse, if that is even possible. Silently, she promises them over and over that they'll be alright now. They made it to the goal. She can treat their pains now.

The mantra of vows keep going, even after she finally walks through the threshold with them now fully resting their weight on her back, not strong enough to do anything about it anymore.

Ghost is already sitting in the pool of liquid Soul, leaning against the rocky shore, the bandage holding their head together still in place. Their cloak lies discarded on a bench. They almost look as if asleep. The weaverlings are sitting next to them, small pile of dead Tiktiks behind them at the foot of the bench. The flying child comes to her, sniffing her for a second, before flying up to the ceiling near the entrance. They hang upside down, forwards to the empty cave. Keeping watch for any dangers, she guesses. And oh, is she glad for having them here.

She looks to the waters. Her first thought is to get in. Both her and Hollow. Then she remembers that the bigger sibling is pierced through and through. Silken bandages wouldn't keep the waters out if they'd sunk into them. She should sew those wounds closed first.

She walks around the pool and stops near Ghost’s resting place. “Okay, come on. You can sit down now.” They, with great difficulty, with the whistle in their chest terrifying her, push themselves off her back and almost straight up collapse on the ground. The thud of their body hitting the floor startles Ghost so bad they slightly jump and whip their head around to the source of the sound, even though they still can’t see a single thing.

“Carefully, come on-” she kneels down next to them and looks over to the Soul filled waters. Their bleeding legs are already up to knees in it. Maybe that's enough to absorb soul and heal the worst of their injuries? “Hollow? Can you focus and heal yourself?”

...No reply…

“Hollow?”

Silence. Not even a whisper of a silent shuffle that would indicate movement. _Not even a breath_.

Hornet feels like her neck should have snapped right then and there, with how fast she turns her head around as the realization hits her just like a Massive Moss Charger at full speed would. _They are not breathing anymore_ . “Hollow!” She scrambles up to their face. Checks for their pulse in their wrist, neck, searches for a gust of a smallest breeze with her hand in front of their face. _Nothing_ . _There’s nothing_.

She feels her throat close. She hears bandages tearing apart. Her hands tremble as she tries to figure out what to do. How do you revive a void being? _She doesn't know_ \- she only ever killed them. She only ever speared through her own siblings. The only vessel she ever spent time with for a long period of time, besides Hollow, rarely got sick, rarely she had seen them during that time. And even they died. She wasn’t even around when they passed away, she doesn't know what to _do_.

Suddenly, Ghost is right beside her. They don't try to push her away. Their hand lingers on her shoulder blade only for sliver of a second before the cold is gone again. Her eyes are wide open, she’s looking directly at them, but she can’t process a single thing they do. Everything is sharp as broken crystals in the Crystal Peak, everything is blurred at the same time. She’s frozen with terror she hadn't experienced in so long. All apathy she has runs through her as she sits there, taken by the emotional shock and conflict.

Ghost is doing something. Their hands skim over the bigger sibling. There’s white in her vision as they attempt something. Nothing. The room becomes chillier. Darker. The blackness looms over the three of them and she feels that choking sensation again before it’s withdrawn away from her, to safe her that sort of pain. Nothingness. Complete zero of everything. Stasis different of the one she’s used to.

The darkness lifts, what is considered time in a frozen age flows again, she can hear the rush of the Soul invested water again. Hollow’s entire body jerks, their claws sink into the ground and pull, as if they want to tear the entire earth apart. They fall slack again, but she can feel the cold puffs of their breaths on her arms. Their mouth hangs open and they heave as if they wanted to throw up. There’s nothing in them, though. But they live. _They live_.

Ghost stands next to her, now. One of their hands grip one of her horns while the other places itself on her right cheek. They pull her into their chest, where they are coldest. Cold is good. It’s grounding. She doesn't move even a bit, though. They press her closer, their arms circle around her neck to correctly hug her. One of their hands settles between her horns to hold her against their thorax. Her mind falls quiet- _thank the gods_ \- as cold presence fills her head.

Hornet, Hornet! It’s alright! Sibling lives! Lives, lives, lives!! They'll be fine, whispers a panicked voice only she can hear. That's when she realizes that this has to be Ghost. There’s no way it can’t be them. She should have probably realized it sooner, but it seemed so impossible. She spent so much time with vessels, one would think at least one would speak to them. She wrote off the voice as a sign of insanity until now. Maybe Ghost is just really really special… For now, though, she just decides to accept it and bury her face a little more into them. Hollow grips her arm. Maybe more roughly than necessary, but she welcomes it. She can’t tell if they do it to ground themselves or her. Maybe both.

She lets the moment stretch for a little while, before she pulls away. Or tries to, at least. Ghost’s arms stiffen and on instinct attempt to pull her back in again. Her hand, the one not being squeezed by Hollow, settles on theirs. She looks up into their uncovered eyes. For a bit, they only stare at each other. Hornet inspects from afar the not-so-pretty crack running through the middle of their head. Good, it’s still in one piece at last, she thinks. They search her face for the signs of emotional wear. She knows, of course they search for that. They probably don't even have to try too hard.

Her voice sounds dead when she speaks up, “I have to sew their stab wounds.” They flinch at her tone. She doesn't have it in herself to try for any other, though. “They still need to heal.”

They look to Hollow and back to her. So do you, sister, they whisper amidst her thoughts.

She looks away, not able to abide their begging stare. “No time.” she replies.

Later?, they ask.

Hornet reluctantly promises, “...Later.”

Their hands move. They cup her cheeks. They stare into her real eyes, ones that reflect the light of Lumaflies and the glowing streams made out Soul, so unlike theirs, searching.

She lets go of their arm. Hesitantly, they follow her lead. Letting theirs fall to their sides. They take a deep breath before going back into the hot spring, submerging until only their head pokes out.

She squeezes Hollow’s thumb, silently asking them to let go. They do and she shrugs off her cloak, takes out one of her throwing knives and tosses the shawl towards the bench. She doesn't know if she actually managed to hit her target. Her accuracy is more than likely off, right now. She doesn't have it in herself to care about such thing, even though the fabric of her cloak means more than any other ever could.

She moves to the pool, puts her hand in, feels the Soul running through her, filling every crook of her being with energy the Void stole from her. She still feels somewhat unresponsive to the world, numb, but some amount of relief washes over her at being able to move her arm without it being alike to her greatest feats.

Shuffling closer, she takes care to move Hollow’s cloak away carefully, not to upset their already bleeding thorax. With the knife, Hornet cuts the bandages. It’s not her work, she doesn't have the nerves, to try and unbind them normally. The amount of stab wounds doesn't shock her. She doubts she can be shocked more than she already is. She is, however, mildly unsettled. It’s at least 20. Time two- _they stabbed themselves through- their back-_ and it’s 40 large sized injuries she has to take care of. That's a lot for sure.

Still, the action comes automatic. Thread into the needle’s eye, needle into the void flesh, needle out of the void flesh, make sure it won't escape their body, cut the silk. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat thousand times over, to make sure they are alright. Their breaths doesn't hitch as she works. They are probably so overstimulated with pain already that they don't really notice. She zones out, she comes back to the waking world when she has to switch to their back. She zones out again. One of the weaverlings comes to watch her work. She ignores them.

Hornet finishes. “Be carefully as you lower yourself into the waters.” Her tone is still so dead, her voice is so silent… “Try not to upset the stitches.” She just hopes the healing waters will do most of the work, quickly, and make her work a little bit useless in the longer run. Still, without this they would have to worry about having Soul _literally_ flowing through the remains of their guts.

She pulls their cloak off for them as they, weakly, rise to their arm and slowly push themselves into the hot spring, right next to Ghost. They, just like the small sibling, hide their body under the healing water, their knees poke out, though.

The soft rush of Soul being used in the Focus spell fills the air for a bit as she turns around to deposit Hollow’s cloak with the others. The weaverlings push the Tiktiks closer to the pool, while she picks up her own shawl and dusts it off, before putting it down, too.

Now. Now is finally time for rest.

She sits down further away from the other two than necessary, she supposes, but they need their own time to heal. Her heart screams at her to dip into the water more than just her legs, to sit down next to them, to let their presence calm her. But no, no. This is time for them. Later. Later, she said.

A too big hand nudges hers, then takes it and pulls her lightly. Hornet looks down, just to see it trembling. Not only her sibling’s hand, hers too. She opens her mouth to speak, but instead she gasps for air, feels the saltiness of her own tears. She hadn't realized she started crying- _She shouldn’t-_

“I-it’s okay, don't bother-,” Hollow only pulls more insistently. She tries to stop sobbing. Will her tears to stop. Hollow pulls strongly enough to make her abruptly stand up and stumble forwards, before she gains her footing. Of course it doesn't take much power for them to do that. They’re fucking _gargantuan_. She opens her mouth to snap at them, but they tilt their head in a certain way and suddenly she can’t hold anything together anymore.

Tiny sob leaves her, her knees buckle and she falls to the floor, one of her hands still held in Hollow’s, the other three she wraps around herself. She starts full on weeping. It startles the weaverlings, the flying child and Ghost. All of them look to her. She doesn't want them to see.

Hollow let goes of her hand and for a bit she’s so so sure that they will leave her. That they didn't want to see her like this, she disappointed them, they want to have nothing to do with her sadness right now. They sit up better and put their arm around her, though. They pull her into the waters and into their least injured side.

The child turns around, satisfied with the direction the situation is evolving to, probably. The weaverlings hide under the bench and the siblings’ cloaks, to sleep, most likely. Ghost swims closer, puts one hand on her back where Hollow’s isn't.

And that's all Hornet needs. She buries her face in her too long lost sibling and feels them squeeze her just a little tighter. Ghost’s hand gets replaced by their cheek. She feels two different colds in her mind, attempting to sooth her aches, to comfort her, to support her venting, to communicate to her the giant amount of love they have for her, hoping that it’s possible.

She’ll cry, then she’ll sleep. With her family by her side. And when they'll all wake up, she will love them a bit more than she did before. No barriers- no doors- are there to stop her, anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue what am I doing, this is the first time I posted my writing on the internet, so please be gentle with me and if you have any constructive criticism I’m one big ear
> 
> Hollow lives bc I love them a lot and Ghost lives bc my sis loves them a lot and I simply cannot bring myself to write about either of them being dead, so an AU it shall be


End file.
